“Look, I’ll just sit by the fire and get dry—”
“Talysse,” Aeidas clicks his tongue, “I’m surprised you’re such a prude. The fire will die in an hour. You’d better take advantage of the heat now and dry those clothes. And no worries, I’ve seen ladies without garments before.” His voice is low and raspy now.
Oh, I bet he did. Plenty of them. Even if he wasn’t the heir to that cursed throne, his looks are enough to lure flocks of Unseelie ladies into his bed chamber.
Disgusting.
“Or you can stand there and catch your death.” He shrugs.
His glowing sage eyes pin me, and the right corner of his lips curls up, displaying a sharp fang. He looks like a predator ready to pounce, and for one maddening moment, my exhausted brain thinks that he’dmake metake these clothes off. A thought that sends a wave of heat through my core. He starts unbuttoning his midnight-colored shirt, his gaze relentlessly fixed on me.
“I’ve seen…gentlemen without their garments, too.” I lift my chin and glare back at him defiantly.
A deep, devilish chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Did you now?”
“Yep, the last one was the blacksmith’s apprentice, a handsome young man with hair like straw, very proud of his physique—” Rambling nonsense is often my last resort when in trouble. But I’d say anything just to keep myself distracted from this shameless display of magnificence before me. And of danger too—his Ancestral Mark: red like blood and carved into his flesh. The Sacred Mountain, split in two, and the moon crescent over it; letters of some long-lost language swirl around it. Royal Seelie and Unseelie are born with this mark, a reminder of their guilt.
My gaze crawls back up to his face. He’s watching me, his eyes bright green now, like the fields in spring.
“And how was he?” the prince asks, hanging his shirt on a hook on the mantelpiece. Elders help me. The light of the fire gilds every dip and every swell of pure, lean muscle, painting a contrast between the two dips on the sides of his stomach, which narrow down to a—
“Quite disappointing. Myrtle told me about some interesting trick he can pull off.” Aeidas listens with a smirk, and to take my mind off the fine dusting of dark hair disappearing into his low-rise leather pants, I start boldly unbuttoning my shirt.
“Hmmm, which trick might that be?” He purrs but quickly looks away when my fingers fiddle with the second button.
“He probably had a bad day. I’m afraid I’ll never find out.” A lie. Myrtle told me about the way he can use his tongue, which made her scream with pleasure. Something I’ve never experienced with a man and something that makes me very, very curious.
Aeidas kneels before the fireplace, throwing more wood in. His eyes are fixed on the flames when I hang my clothes on the hook. Standing behind him only in linen panties and the lacy band holding my breasts together, I rake my fingers through my hair, grateful that it’s so long and provides some cover. His scent of midnight dew, woodsmoke, and secret gardens makes my head spin, and I quickly step away.
The air deeper in the hut is still cold, and the rags on the bed are teeming with life. Tiny shapes dart to the cobwebbed corners when the old covers are gone. I pile them all on the floor, together with the mice nests, raising clouds of dust and moths, and look around for something to cover myself with.
While the prince is breaking planks and branches over his knee and feeding them into the fire, I manage to pull out some moldy but well-preserved blankets from a trunk.
“As a lady, I’m claiming the bed!” I strew some dry leaves from the floor on the bed planks, throw the covers over them, and smile at my job. That would do.
“Oh, that’s not how it works, Talysse,” his deep voice rumbles so close to me that my skin sprouts goosebumps. “It’s too cold to sleep alone.” Atos, take me! Warmth pools from my core and settles lower, when the meaning of his words reaches me. His eyes are nearly black when I turn to face him, and there is tension in the line of his strong shoulders.
He’s right. The fire is not enough to keep us warm, and standing here, my breath is visible again.
“Let me keep you warm,” he breathes, leaning in closer. Slickness spreads between my thighs.
What is wrong with me? He is Fae royalty—a natural-born predator, shaped by nature and by the Elders in a way to be irresistible.
“We don’t know how long the night will last, Talysse. And we have firewood for less than an hour. Let me warm you.” His long, thick lashes cast shadows over his eyes, but there’s still that predatory glimmer in them.
“I will not touch you in any…inappropriate way; you have my word.”
With fatigue comes madness because I nod. And because some hungry curiosity gnaws on my insides.
He’s right, it’s too cold under the thin cover, eaten by the moths, and I’m shivering when I stiffly lay down, facing the wall.
“You humans get cold so easily,” the prince whispers when he slips underneath the cover.
“How many humans have you bedded?” I snap, letting out a soft moan when the rugged plane of his chest molds onto the bare skin of my back. Another maddening low chuckle.
“See? It’s already working. You’re much warmer now,” he murmurs into my ear and slings his heavy arm over my waist. I’m hyperaware of the places our bodies meet.
Elder Seuta, what twisted games are you playing?
